


together we'll survive (i'll be at your side)

by CrypticVirago



Series: heart made of glass (mind of stone) [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gavin almost has an anxiety attack, Gavin doesn't like crowds, Gavin's previous partner, M/M, More Backstory, Nines is a supportive friend, damn it Gavin just confess your feelings, hand holding, writer takes creative liberties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 22:38:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16251227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticVirago/pseuds/CrypticVirago
Summary: Gavin's never liked formal events, but he likes the Blue Honor Gala even less. It's an event dedicated to injured and fallen officers; it just brings back bad memories and worsens his anxiety. Lucky for him, Nines is there.Nines is always there.





	together we'll survive (i'll be at your side)

_I'll be at your side, there's no need to worry_

_Together we'll survive through the haste and hurry_

_I'll be at your side_

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin fucking hated formal events.

There were a couple of reasons, if Gavin was being honest. For one, he hated having to get dressed up, hated that he had to look nice because other people wanted him to be. On that train of thought, he hated formal events because of the judgmental people that existed there. If you didn’t act just right, if you didn’t look just right, you were subject to silent ridicule.

And if all that wasn’t enough, it was the Blue Honor Gala.

The Blue Honor Gala was annual, held in mid-February which meant that, this year, it fell on February 18th, a Friday. It was an event that was held in order to honor fallen officers, the ones killed in the line of duty, as well as their families. That meant that it just brought up memories that didn’t sit well in Gavin’s mouth.

Six years ago, Gavin had gone to the Blue Honor Gala. He had worn a nice suit, a new pair of dress shoes, and spent most of the time trying to keep tears from joining the mix. Six years ago, he had accepted a Police Medal of Honor for the partner he had lost only three months prior, Detective Brendon Olson.

Gavin took a cab to the event center in the heart of downtown. Gavin honestly wasn’t a ‘cab’ person. The taxi’s nowadays were all completely autonomous, managed by the DDOT. He had never trusted self-driving cars – he had seen one too many accidents whenever he was younger – so he traditionally stuck to manual cars. The only stipulation was shit like this: it would save him some gas, and finding parking around this kind of event was fucking _impossible_.

Before he’d left, he’d looked over himself in the mirror, and he had been wholly unimpressed.

He had tried, at least. He tried to make himself look nice enough to be around the rest of these fuckers, which translated to the entire Detroit City Police force. Sure, there were bound to be a lot that didn’t show up, but there would still be enough to get him anxious. That was just what big crowds tended to do to him. His suit was a little ill fitting. Just a little. Since the last gala a year ago, he’d lost weight, lost some bulk. It was just because he didn’t eat as much as he used to, that was all, and because he didn’t bother going to the gym as much anymore. He hadn’t shaved – he didn’t want to look like a fucking kid. He had showered, sure, had brushed his hair back and tried to find some gel to keep it there, but had had no luck.

He knew he didn’t look good. He still looked tired, had too much scruff and his dark circles were a little too deep for him to look anything other than gross. He should have gone out and gotten a new suit, one that fit a bit better than this one. Maybe he should have ironed his shirt to have gotten the fine wrinkles out. Maybe he should have gotten a tie, one that wasn’t so plain. Most of the cab ride was spent with him trying to figure out how to knot said tie. Sure, he used to know, but he hadn’t bothered with a tie since about this time last year, at the previous Blue Honor Gala.

With traffic, it takes him about twenty-five minutes to get to 400 Monroe, to the International Banquet and Conference Center. The gala was held here every year, and aside from weddings and the occasional rich family reunion, it was one of the center’s biggest events.

It also fucking _sucked_.

Gavin didn’t like being around so many people. I mean, sure, they were other cops, other detectives, other captains from all the precincts of Detroit. But that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Before everything happened with Brendon, Gavin hadn’t minded it _that_ much. It sucked that he had to dress up, but it was free food. Now it just meant that he had the opportunity to sit there and drown out whatever speech was being given and think about his last partner.

The lobby still hadn’t changed. It was still the same cream walls and white tiled floors. There was still the painted-gold chandeliers with fake crystals to refract the light. It was pretty, bright and inviting. Or, at least, it was supposed to be. When Gavin walks into the lobby, it’s filled with people, and it’s immediately suffocating. Most people hadn’t really moved into the ballroom yet, something he should have expected, but already his palms were sweating and his stomach was in anxious knots.

He just wanted to find Nines. Nines, who he knew would be with Connor, who would be with Hank, and who would probably be with Ben. If he could just find that little group, with the lookalike twins and two old men, he’d be in good shape. Right? He’d be fine. Sticking to the outskirts, looking into the scattered groups of people, it doesn’t actually take him that long.

And the only reason it doesn’t is because, unlike 90% of the rest of these people, Nines wasn’t wearing black.

He had been right, at least. Nines was with Connor, who was with Hank, but instead of Ben tagging along with them, there was Tina instead. It only briefly registers in his mind that she’s even there, but only because he’s currently a bit flabbergasted.

Because holy shit, Nines looked fucking _hot_.

It was kind of weird, Gavin thinks, the differences in their clothing. Where Gavin had a black suit and black tie that currently hung around his neck untied, Nines had the opposite. A white suit, white tie against a black shirt. And god damn. Gavin never knew just how good Nines looked in white. There had never been a time where Gavin had found someone so attractive that it made his mouth dry, but this was one of those times, and he finds himself licking his bottom lip without realizing it.

And then Nines notices him. There’s his grey eyes and his beautiful face and his smile that didn’t work the way it should.

“Good evening, Detective Reed,” Nines greets, and whatever conversation had been occurring before his arrival ceased. Nines takes a step back in order to give Gavin space to stand between himself and Tina, who wraps her arm around his neck and squeezes his head against her shoulder.

“’bout time you showed up!” she laughs. “We were getting worried you were never going to get here.”

“The fuck…?” Gavin immediately snorts. “I’m right on time, damn it. Any earlier and I would have been here yesterday.”

“He is technically correct, Officer Chen,” Connor chimes in. “The gala is expected to begin in seven minutes.” Gavin waves his hand towards the RK800 – dressed in a sharp, grey suit (he and Hank were wearing matching, ridiculous ties) – in a quiet thanks for the backup.

“Maybe we should go ahead and sit down,” Hank suggests. “I’m not too keen on sitting with a bunch of those precinct six assholes up front and damn center.” They end up collecting Chris and Person on their way towards the grand ballroom, but before they actually get in there, Nines grabs his arm and pulls him aside.

“Detective Reed,” he says softly, leaning down just the slightest bit in order to be a bit closer, to make their conversation just a little bit more private in this massive room of people. He entirely invades Gavin’s personal space, and the only thing Gavin can think about is _holy fuck he’s so hot fuck I want to kiss him shit_. “Are you feeling alright?”

Gavin shrugs off Nines’ hand, which feels like it’s burning a hole through his suit. “I’m just fine,” Gavin lies, but under Nines’ scrutinous gaze, Gavin breaks. “I’m just… I don’t like big crowds. And this kind of thing it… doesn’t really…”

Nines blinks, his LED flickers yellow for such a brief amount of time that Gavin almost thinks he imagines it. “I understand,” he murmurs, and he smiles at Gavin again. “And is there… any particular reason your tie is just hanging around your neck?”

 “Oh, I uh…” he blushes. “I don’t really know how to.” He may be more than a bit embarrassed, but looking down at Nines’ perfectly knotted tie doesn’t make it any better. “Well, I used to know, but it’s been a while since I’ve had to tie one. Since, like, about this time last year.”

“Would you like me to do it for you?” Nines suggests, and Gavin _knew_ that Nines would say that. Gavin shrugs, straightens up a little bit and lets Nines take hold of his tie. Gavin hates the butterflies in his stomach when Nines is this close to him. He’s almost afraid to breathe with him here, and he remains as still as he’s able. Nines flips up his collar, looping the tie around his neck before flattening the collar once more. It only takes a few moments, a few precise movements, before his tie is expertly knotted, pressed flat and smooth against his chest.

Then Nines is standing up straight again, looking at Gavin with a very… indecipherable expression. “…what is it?” Gavin ends up asking, feeling a bit uncomfortable under his stare.

It’s a few moments before Nines says anything in response, and by that time, he’s resting his hands on Gavin’s shoulders. “You look very handsome, detective,” Nines says softly, a smile on his face and his eyes so _warm._

If that hadn’t been as surprising as it was, Gavin would have laughed. Him? Looking _handsome_? That’s something that he definitely wasn’t. Normally, Gavin would have scoffed, would have said something about Nines either being stupid or blind, but right now, his mouth wouldn’t work. He finds himself thinking of Tina’s suspicion that Nines loved him, a suspicion that Gavin couldn’t necessarily believe. Now, however, he had no doubts anymore.

The main event room is full of tables, each with white table clothes and a cute little centerpiece on each. There was some kind of buffet against the left side wall, but for the moment, Gavin wasn’t hungry enough. Right now, his damn stomach was in knots.

His lips are already fucking chapped, but that doesn’t stop him from biting at them, tearing off the skin there like it’s just a damn thing to do. The little group they had had grown. In addition to Nines, Connor, Hank and Tina, they’d managed to find and pull Ben, Brown and Wilson. Gavin had Nines on his left and Chen on his right, and if he was leaning a little closer to Nines than he usually would, nobody says anything.

The mayor of Detroit – some old man who Gavin thinks is retired military somehow – came up to speak, and launches in to some scripted speech that Gavin has heard multiple times before. The same speech about the bravery of all police officers, about the dangers they faced every day and the sacrifice of their bravest. “This night is an opportunity to acknowledge their sacrifice in their pursuit to keep the great city of Detroit safe.”

The mayor keeps talking and talking, and the only time he takes a break is when he drinks some of the water set up at the podium for him. And with each moment that he speaks, Gavin just keeps feeling worse.

It’s half an hour in that he starts giving out the medals. The medals that Gavin can’t stand to look at, because he’s seen too many of them, has looked at a specific one for too long. The Police Medal of Honor was awarded to the officers that were either killed or injured in the line of duty, those that had a ‘conscious awareness of physical danger to their person’. In the past year, DPD Central had lost two patrol officers, neither of which Gavin could say he knew, and seven had been injured to the extent of taking time off of work. Person herself got up amongst a chorus of intermittent applause. The medals awarded to the deceased would be hung in the lobby of the precinct, behind the glass, to the right side of the entry way. There are a lot hung up there, some from decades prior, ones that were moved up to the top, where they were a bit harder to see. The newer ones were placed closer to the bottom, so the recently deceased could be known by name.

Officer Alvarez and Officer Coulsett’s Medals of Honor would soon join them.

It feels like a damn graduation got mixed in with the ambiance of a fucking funeral. Everything was solemn, the atmosphere was saturated with it and it hung heavy over everyone in the room. Gavin just wanted to sink down into his chair. He didn’t want to be here, he really didn’t. He didn’t want to be disrespectful, but there was only so much that Gavin could handle.

He tenses when a hand rests against his thigh. “Gavin,” Nines whispers, and he’s leaned in so fucking _close_. “Are you alright?”

No, he wasn’t really. “’m fine,” he grumbles in return, but his voice shakes. He hopes that Nines doesn’t notice, but knowing Nines, he definitely has. Nines doesn’t push it, doesn’t pressure him for answers he isn’t quite ready to give, but his hand remains on Gavin’s thigh. It’s weird, certainly very strange, that the weight of his hand there was very comforting. Once Nines begins to remove it, though, Gavin almost impulsively reaches out to grab it.

He sees Nines’ LED flicker yellow in the corner of his vision, but doesn’t look over at his partner. Gavin bites his lip, focusing straight ahead at the stage, even as he laces their fingers together. His face was probably bright red – hell, he could feel it – and he hoped, hell, he _prayed_ that Chen didn’t notice. Nines squeezes his hand, his thumb brushing across the back of Gavin’s palm. Gavin takes a deep breath. He definitely feels much better. He’s sure his hands must be sweaty, but Nines’ palm is cool against his.

It’s cool. It’s grounding. It makes him try to take some deep breathes and relax because he thinks he’s three seconds from having a panic attack. Either that or his sight is starting to go because the lights, however dim, they might be, are halowed and smudged.

Instead of focusing on the speeches and the medals, Gavin looks down, looks at where he’s gripping Nines’ hand like his life depends on it. He concentrates on that. On looking and memorizing details. Nines’ silver cufflinks, the black cuff of his shirt beneath the end of his blazer’s sleeve. He had never noticed before, just how long Nines’ fingers are. Never noticed the single freckle he has on the back of his palm, right beneath the knuckle of his middle finger. It was weird, how much detail had been dedicated to these little things, the things that didn’t really matter.

Those little things that made Nines beautiful.

At some point, Nines’ thumb begins idly stroking the back of his hand. It made the tight panic in his chest uncoil, and it became much easier to breathe.

He stays zoned out until the little official ceremony part is over. Then it’s eat, drink and be merry time. Gavin doesn’t eat anything – he blames it on the fact that he had a late lunch, and not on the fact that he feels like eating anything is going to make him puke. It doesn’t help that Nines pulled his hand away once everyone began to converse amongst themselves. He twists his fingers around each other in his lap, just beneath the draped white tablecloth.

It’s difficult to make idle conversation. He’s a bit snappier than usual, rolls his eyes a bit more. He notices Nines and Connor looking at one another from across the table, sees the brief yellow spin of their LEDs, and he knows, just _knows_ , he’s being talked about.

That’s what pisses him off, in the end.

He stands up, tells everyone that he’ll see them at work on Monday without a hint of cordial politeness, and leaves the ballroom. He’s happy that Hank thinks a bit like him now. Happy that, just like him, Hank doesn’t like to be in the middle of the room. Doesn’t like to be too far away from an exit.

The lobby is empty, this time around. There’s still the same cream walls and white tile, just without the congestion that comes with too damn many people. When the side doors to the ballroom shut, he’s shut off from the majority of the noise that’s inside, but still, he crosses the lobby, finds the first bench pressed up against the wall, and collapses against it. He bows his head, digs his elbows into his knees, and rubs his face with his hands. His fingers still haven’t stopped trembling, his palms are still sweaty.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

It was fucking ridiculous.

He should be over this.

It had been six years.

Six of these damn things had happened since then.

Why was he still so fucked up about it?

Why couldn’t he just sit through getting the damn medals, eat food and talk with his coworkers like a normal fucking person?

The loud noise of the conversation from within the ballroom returns for a brief moment, and then the doors are shut again. He doesn’t bother looking up, but he doesn’t need to. After a few moments, a pair of dress shoes have stopped right in front of him, and the white dress pants just gave away who it was.

Nines kneels down in front of him. “Gavin…?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” he snaps, but even he can hear his damn voice shaking.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Nines says, unphased by Gavin’s venomous words. “Your stress levels are significantly elevated, and they have been for the majority of the evening. I’m sorry for scanning you, I know you don’t like that, but I’m just… concerned for your wellbeing.”

“You always are,” Gavin mumbles under his breath, and then he sighs. “I don’t know what’s _wrong_ with me.” He feels so fucking bad. Bad because Nines is just… concerned for him. Gavin should be grateful that _somebody_ cares about him, especially someone like Nines. “It’s been six fucking _years_ , why am I still… why do I…?” His voice breaks, feels his jaw tremble, and his shoulder’s feel so… fucking _heavy_.

“There is no set time limit for recovery, Detective Reed,” Nines murmurs.

“It’s been long e-fucking-nough.” Now Gavin’s worried. Worried that he’s start fucking crying in front of Nines at some stupid gala.

“It’s been four years since Lieutenant Anderson lost his son, and it is still painful for him,” Nines points out. Gavin looks up at him, and he’s happy to see that there is no pity in his eyes. There is only worry, a concern for his wellbeing. It makes a lump form in his throat. “Losing someone you care about is painful. There isn’t any shame in needing help. That’s what your friends are here for.”

And Gavin does end up crying. It starts so suddenly that it surprises him, but then he’s got his face in Nines’ shoulder and his partner’s hand is against the back of his neck and he just –

Let’s himself cry.

For as long as he lives, he’s never going to forget how fucking _pathetic_ he felt in that moment. He’s sobbing into a suit that could possibly cost more than his car, trying to keep quiet because _fuck_ they’re still in public. And Nines is there, just like he always in, rubbing little circles into the back of his neck against his hairline. He’s there and he’s murmuring into Gavin’s ear that ‘ _It’s okay. You’re okay, I’m here._ ” And he was. Nines always fucking was.

He’s never going to forget how pathetic he felt then, but he’ll also never forget how much _better_ he felt. Like this is the kind of breakdown he needed to have all along, and it was just long, long overdue.

It still hurt.

But it didn’t hurt quite as bad.

Gavin has no clue how much later it is before he calms down. Before his hands are shaking but because he needs a cigarette and not due to anything else. Nines is sitting beside him, Gavin’s leaning against his shoulder, and if smoking was allowed indoors, he would already be smoking.

“You asked me once about… about my last partner,” Gavin starts, and already there’s a bitter taste in his mouth. “He was, uh… His name was Brendon Olson.” His voice cracks embarrassingly on the name, and he finds suddenly that his eyes burn.

“You don’t have to tell me, Gavin,” Nines murmurs, so gently, so soothingly.

“I want to.” He has to swallow around the weird lump in his throat before he can continue, and he doesn’t look up from his shoes and the white tile floor. “Brendon was… he and I we – ” God, he doesn’t fucking know how to say this. “We were dating, um, for a while. And by a while I mean… about two years?” Fuck, it had been two years. “We were thinking about moving in together somewhere, we made sure we went out on a date once a week, even if we were busy.” Gavin ends up shaking his head. All this reminiscing just made his chest hurt, made his heart ache. “I really loved him.”

And he had. He really, really had.

“I thought I could be a fucking hero, do something so we could get of the mess that I got us into. Because I said we didn’t need backup, that it was just a few of them and we had the element of surprise and all that shit.” If he hadn’t already been emotionally exhausted, he thinks he could be crying again. “I thought it was just a fucking drop off point, ya know, between red ice manufacturer and their dealers. It turned out to be the fuckin’ plant itself.”

He’s so fucking tired all of a sudden. All he wants to do now is go home. Get out of this damn suit and go to fucking bed and not get out tomorrow.

“I tried to prove a fucking point. I wanted to…” He takes a deep breathe, then sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I wanted to impress Anderson. I wanted to impress Fowler. They didn’t let me or Brendon anywhere near Red Ice Division shit because they said I didn’t have the qualities they were looking for or something. Wanted us to stick to homicide. I thought that… if I could prove to Fowler, or to Anderson that I could do something useful – if I could find the dealers and take them out, then…”

God his head fucking hurt. His head hurt and his chest ached and he almost wanted to throw up.

“He died because of me. Because I wanted to dive headfirst into some shit I wasn’t even ready for. And he’d worried about me too much, thought I was too reckless, and _fuck_ , he was right.”

It hurt.

It hurt a fucking lot.

Shit, he’d only ever told Tina about this.

“I understand now,” Nines hums, almost thoughtfully. “Why you were upset when I got shot. The circumstances were too similar. It had been nothing but a terrible reminder.” Gavin just nods against Nines’ shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. You didn’t have to.”

“You’re easy to talk to,” Gavin shrugs. “If you weren’t a good detective I would say you should go ahead and be a shrink.”

“That would certainly be a sight, wouldn’t it?”

Gavin chuckles. “You’d be a good marriage counselor, I think. I can just picture you with this married lady complaining because her husband doesn’t have sex with her anymore.”

Nines hums thoughtfully. “He could have performance anxiety,” Nines muses. “Or erectile dysfunction. A growing problem in the male population above the age of forty. That, or he just watches too much porn.”

“Or an affair.”

“It’s definitely an affair. With his secretary.”

Gavin finds himself smiling at that. “Or her sister.”

“ _That_ would be entirely disastrous.” Gavin can hear the amusement in Nines’ words, and it makes the knots in his stomach untangle themselves. It lifts the weight off his chest in favor of letting it feel warm and bubbly, like he could laugh at any second. “It wouldn’t just ruin the marriage, it would cause a rift in interfamilial relations as well.”

“I don’t think his mom liked her anyway,” Gavin almost finds himself giggling. “I think his mom wanted him to get with the sister to begin with.”

“I’m going to assume he’s a mommy’s boy.”

“Oh yeah. She was still coming over and doing his laundry even after he got married.”

“Maybe there’s deeper issues here that his wife doesn’t recognize.” Forget amusement, Gavin can hear the smile in his voice. “The lack of sex in their relationship could be caused by her lack of emotional and psychological support for him.”

It falls silent between the two of them for a while, the only sound the low hum of conversation within the grand ballroom from the other side of the lobby, behind the closed doors. Gavin has to admit he feels much better than he had when he first got here. A hot shower and some PJs and he’d probably be at 100%.

“Hey, Nines?” Gavin eventually speaks, breaking the silence that had existed between them. Nines hums, a prompt for Gavin to continue. “Can we, um… can you, I mean, can I just… shit.” God, why is he so damn bad at just _asking_ for the shit he wants?

Actions are easier, he thinks. Much easier than words.

So instead of trying to say anything, he just rests his arm between them, hand palm up and fingers splayed. The silent question that he couldn’t ask. He can feel the embarrassed flush rise to his cheeks, but he refuses to bitch out. Refuses to react.

Nines, after a moment, reaches over and interlaces their fingers together, thumb brushing across the back of Gavin’s hand. Just like before, it dissipates his anxiety, removes the tension in his shoulders. He could fall asleep if he wasn’t stuck in this suit and his uncomfortable fucking dress shoes.

God, he loves Nines. Loves him so much that being around him keeps everything from hurting as much as it usually does. It actually makes him feel happy, made him feel entirely at ease.

He thought he had forgotten what that felt like.

“Nines…? Thanks for being here.”

“I’ll be here, as long as you need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from "At Your Side" by The Corrs.


End file.
